


Take me to church

by Masamiya



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bossy Steve, Coming Untouched, Dom/sub Undertones, First Time, Getting Together, M/M, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Skinny!Steve, Smut, blowjob, preserum steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2018-03-03 01:30:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2833184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Masamiya/pseuds/Masamiya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Bucky’s smile was legendary in Brooklyn, it was because even in the middle of the Depression, it was still proudly attached to Bucky’s lips, night and day.</p><p> </p><p>What the good people of his neighborhood didn’t know was the reason why he was always smiling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take me to church

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by "Take me to Church" by Hozier. Man, this song fucked me up real bad.
> 
> I must thank the wonderful Kit for the amazing Beta work. Go and meet her on tumblr: http://ravenclawinstarfleet.tumblr.com/

If Bucky’s smile was legendary in Brooklyn, it was because even in the middle of the Depression, it was still proudly attached to Bucky’s lips, night and day.

 

What the good people of his neighborhood didn’t know was the reason why he was always smiling. It was strange for them to see the bright teeth in the shady, cold mornings of the winter, because they didn’t know that because of the cold, he got to sleep against the most perfect boy on earth; they didn’t know that he, Bucky, had been entrusted with the important task of keeping Steven Grant Rogers alive.

  
He got to wake up every day to see Steve first thing in the morning, to feel his fragile, almost ethereal body warmed up by his. He got to share his nights, his body heat and health with the person he adored and every morning he would wake up and be amazed by his chance.

 

Bucky Barnes had the privilege of sharing an apartment with his best friend, and that was reason enough to keep smiling even when he couldn’t afford to eat meat for weeks.

 

But this morning was special. It was Steve’s and Bucky’s favorite day; it was Sunday. On Sunday, neither of them worked. On Sunday, Steve was going dutifully to mass and brought Buck with him — but it wasn’t the reason why Bucky loved this day.  
It was because Sunday was the only day he could pretend to be tired and stay in bed to watch Steve getting ready, going around the apartment half-naked with his skin pale reddened because he scrubbed too hard in the shower to be as clean as possible. Steve always had a weird thing for being cleaned up real nice for church, and Bucky always had the urge to kiss the red marks along the lean body, to heal them with the tip of his tongue.

  
So this Sunday, like every Sunday, Bucky was shamefully hiding his hard-on under the sheets, pretending to be half-asleep and peeking through his lashes to get a glimpse of Steve’s skin. He was the worst man ever and shouldn’t be allowed near someone as pure and perfect as Steve.

  
Steve loved Sundays because of the church, and Bucky loved Sundays because of Steve. He was going to Hell and couldn’t care less.

 

“Buck, get up, we’re going to be late.”

  
A feather-like hand on his shoulder and he kept his eyes closed, briefly breathing in Steve’s smell. He waited until the sound of the light steps told him that Steve was now in front of their wardrobe to look at him.  
Steve was in his underwear, looking pensively at their meager pile of clothes like it would make something worth going on his bony, tempting shoulders appear.

 

It really was the best moment of the day, and Bucky knew he would have to confess later for it as he eyed greedily the long lines of his best friend’s body. His pale skin was almost glowing in the morning sun.  
Steve’s skin was the most beautiful thing in the world and he was thanking God in his prayers every Sunday for being the only one to see it. It was almost transparent and yet strangely milky; Bucky knew it had the softest and firmest texture for touching it with the tip of his fingers, at night, every time he could pretend that it was an accident and that his hand had slipped.

  
He watched Steve choose his pants, bending to put them on, and his cock throbbed at the sight of the two perfect globes of a manly, firm ass hugged by the underwear.

  
It was almost too much, and he knew he couldn’t watch Steve putting on the rest of his clothes if he wanted to get up without an erection. He turned his back to Steve to avoid temptation. Bucky knew that he was a sick fuck, leering at his best friend like that — he didn’t even have the excuse to say that Steve looked a bit like a woman, because even if he was skinny, it was in a very manly way. The lines of his body weren’t soft at all; it was all large and bony shoulders, flat chest, hips too small to belong to a woman.  
He wanted to put his head on that flat chest, that sublime chest holding Steve’s delicate lungs, and fall asleep, lulled by the movements indicating that his friend was breathing, was still alive.  
He wanted to grip these small hips and leave a permanent mark on them, wanted to bite the meat between the long neck and the shoulders.

 

“Buck, I’m serious, if you’re not ready in five minutes, I’m going without you!”

  
“You wouldn’t let me risk my soul like that,” he joked, the sound of his voice muffled by their only pillow.

  
And it was true. Because Steve was a true saint, he would go late to church rather than without Bucky. Maybe he could feel that Bucky needed a lot of help if he didn’t want to burn for the rest of eternity, like Bucky could feel himself that Steve didn’t need to go confess a single thing.

  
“Five minutes,” his best friend reminded him with his serious voice, the one he used when he wanted Buck to know that he wasn’t shitting him. Steve’s voice was one of the things that Bucky loved the most, a deep man’s voice. When Steve was serious like that, it was commanding and powerful, even a bit icy, and it was sending shivers along Bucky’s spine.

  
Steve was made for giving orders, and Bucky didn’t want to make him late anyway; he would do anything to keep him happy.  
It didn’t mean he couldn’t take his time a little bit just to make him huff. He stretched lazily on the bed before getting up — he would have to take a shower later, he just had enough time to clean his face and hands.

 

He jumped in the first clothes he found and followed the figure leaving their apartment, would follow him everywhere, forever. He didn’t care where they were headed as long as he could keep an eye on Steve.

  
Today, he was going to thank God for letting him have his best friend, and then he was going to pray for Him to turn a blind eye on his sins — all Steve related — so he can keep him a bit longer. The cold hit them on the way to mass, and he mentally added that he was going to bargain a bit with God, too. Steve couldn’t afford to get sick again this year, but if God accepted, he could give him the sickness instead. He could bear it.

  
Maybe he didn’t deserve to pit his health against Steve’s, being a dirty sinner and having jerked off three times this week while thinking about defiling his best friend, but he hoped. He hoped and he prayed and he confessed, all the while keeping an eye on the beautiful man with a nest of blond hair next to him.

  
And maybe it would be enough again this week.

  
____________

  
Bucky really needed that shower.

  
Mass had been awful; the priest had wanted to know if he ever tried anything with “the young Rogers”. He indignantly assured that no, he was thankful enough to just live with him; confessed that yes, he was a beast for desiring him but that just watching was enough to fulfill every man’s fantasy.

  
Every man and woman of Brooklyn should worship Steve and be happy when he would give them a smile. The fact that Steve was still a virgin, still pure and untouched, was a miracle Bucky didn’t understand.

  
He had to confess all the small touches: a caress on the nape of Steve’s neck when he was sitting in the kitchen, busy drawing; his cock slowly filling while his friend massaged his shoulders after a hard day at the docks, once; and that time, three days ago.  
That wonderful evening, when he had nipped playfully at Steve’s fingers, complaining that he missed eating meat and was just going to take a bite at Rogers, and his friend had laughed, laughed real hard, so he had wanted to keep going, taking two, three fingers in his mouth, trying not to moan at the sensation and the taste, growling to make Steve laugh again.

  
It wasn’t possible for his friend to escape without risking hurting his fingers on Bucky’s sharp teeth, so he had tried to tickle him. The laugh that escaped Bucky made him lose his grip on the fingers; he was about to grip the thin waist with his two hands when Steve had stepped back, still smiling, calling him a jerk with a smirk.

  
Bucky had realized that he was hard in his pants, that just a glance would give it away; and that if Steve hadn’t stepped back, maybe he would have taken it too far. One day, he wouldn’t be able to resist the unending temptation that was Steve Rogers.

  
Telling the priest about it hadn’t made him feel that bad about it, and that was maybe the worst part. He didn’t regret that sin, would cherish that memory; Steve’s fingers in his mouth, his pliant body close to his to tickle him. 

In fact, reminding himself of that evening had made him aroused all over again. It wasn’t a very successful confession, and when he sat down next to Steve to say his Pater and Ave Maria as penance, he spent way too much time looking his friend’s long eyelashes sending shadows along the top of his cheeks.

  
Their way back home had been silent, as always. Steve was probably still thinking about all the things he blamed himself for. Bucky disappeared to take a very cold shower because jerking off just after a confession wouldn’t be acceptable.  
When he returned to their living-room, Steve was sitting comfortably on their couch drawing. He was quite the vision, but Bucky couldn’t afford to linger, so he took a book and sat next to him.

  
“The Father gave you a lot of prayers to do,” Steve commented offhandedly.

  
He grunted. There was no need to remind him.

  
“You did something real bad, this week, huh?”

  
This time, he looked at Steve sharply. He looked worried, but was still drawing, avoiding his gaze, trying to pass it down as small talk.

  
“You know I never do anything real bad. You had to pray for half an hour, too. What did you do, anyway?”

  
Steve glanced at him.

  
“I’m not telling you. Confession is private.”

  
“Yet you wanted to know what I did!”

  
Steve huffed.

  
“I was just making sure you were all right, that you didn’t have any problems at work.”

  
“I’m just making sure you’re alright, too. Maybe you’re not telling me about some fight you had, huh?”

  
“I’m not telling you, Buck. You can beg all you want, you won’t know a thing.”

  
And that. That was suddenly giving Bucky ideas.

  
“You want me to beg you, Stevie?”

 

His friend snorted, like it was a joke, something ridiculous. It really wasn’t, Bucky was burning with the desire to get on his knees and beg, pray for Steve to give him anything. Maybe put his forehead on one of Steve’s delicate feet and make it look like it was part of the joke; maybe take his hands in his like he saw beggars do on the streets.  
He got on his knees in front of Steve, joined his hands dramatically and, pleading internally that his friend didn’t see through his game, said with a smirk:

  
“Please, sir, tell me what you did. Did you bump into an old lady or something? Broke one of our glasses?”

  
“Cut it out, I ain’t telling you…”

  
It was the perfect opportunity to take Steve’s hands, cradling them in his. They were colder than expected.

  
“Steve, I know you’re as good as gold, don’t play shy and tell me all about your so-called sins,” he said with a big teasing smile. The blond hadn’t taken his hands back, they were all his to warm up and caress; he rubbed at the palm, pretending to clean the charcoal stains, slowly massaging it.

  
“I liked it better when you were calling me sir,” Steve tried to joke, but his tone was a bit off. Maybe he was sensing that it wasn’t all game for Bucky, and that wasn’t good, Bucky didn’t want it to end.

  
He would do anything to make the moment last. He wanted to be a magician, an illusionist, to make his friend believe that it wasn’t what it really was; wanted to make a rabbit pop out of a hat with one hand to distract him while the other one would caress him.

  
“Is it the bread we ate on Tuesday? Did you steal it, sir? You know you can tell me anything.”

  
The faint blush on Steve’s cheeks was more incriminating than a confession. Bucky was delighted.

  
“Oh, you did, uh? Tell me more, sir. Please. I’m beggin’ ya.”

  
He hid his smile behind his and Steve’s hands, putting a small kiss here, waiting for Steve to confess more of his little faults. It was nothing, stealing some bread when they were all starving; it was adorable to see his friend ashamed of something so inconsequential.  
It also was convenient; still struggling with his shame, Steve didn’t seem to notice that Bucky was kissing his hands lightly. His illusionist act was effective, the diversion allowing him to smell the sweat on the palm, to kiss it. He licked his lips to taste it, and it was heaven.  
He kept speaking to maintain the illusion, to keep Steve’s mind occupied, saying small nothings, trying to guess what Steve could have done, but his mind was elsewhere.

  
His cock was growing again in his pants, the cold shower’s effects wasted. It wouldn’t be easily noticeable, as he was on his knees, so he let himself enjoy it, looking up at Steve. He could so easily tilt his head down and bury it in Steve’s crotch from where he was. He had never been that close to Steve’s junk and he was salivating just at the idea of licking it all over.

 

But then, Steve was taking back his hands and straightening.

  
“You’re not going to guess, Buck, just leave it alone.”

  
Bucky really didn’t want to leave it alone, so he went back to begging, trying to look as pitiful as the stray dog they had seen the other day that Steve liked so much, putting his head on one of Steve’s thighs, one hand around his ankle, just on the patch of skin showing between his socks and his pants. He maintained a steady flow of words in hope that it would hypnotize his friend, that he wouldn’t notice the head that neared his crotch, the caress on his ankle.

  
He wasn’t even sure if he was making sense anymore, he was just making sounds, wasn’t really aware of what he was saying, too caught up on the intensity of the moment. Steve’s ankle was so delicate under his fingers, he could almost curl his entire hand around it; the skin was extremely thin and he knew that it was transparent at places, stretched over the bones.

  
He wanted nothing more than to kiss this ankle, just once.

  
“Please, Stevie… Sir… Tell me, I wanna know, it can’t be that bad…”

  
He let his hand creep up under the pants, and he cupped a firm calf, caressing it. Steve had very soft body hair. 

 

“I’m tellin’ ya, I’m gonna absolve you… You ain’t going to Hell for that bread, it’s forgiven; tell me what you did so I can bless you…”

  
He rubbed his head against the thigh, wanted to bite it, wanted to spread Steve’s legs even more.

  
“I’m sure it’s nothing, it ain’t gonna change anything, I won’t think less of you…”

  
Maybe he could get closer to that crotch. With each rub, slowly, almost imperceptibly, he tried to get his head closer and closer.  
With each caress on Steve’s calf, he was spreading the thin legs a little bit more. Steve’s breath was beginning to speed up a bit, but he was under his spell, listening to his pretty words, blinded by his shame. He still hadn’t seemed to notice.

  
It was bliss. Bucky’s cock was fully erect now, almost painfully so; he was making his face-rubs catlike, his movements wider so he could move his hips a little, trying to alleviate the tension building up in his loins with the friction against his pants.  
He couldn’t just grab his dick and jerk off here, so he was surreptitiously trying to let his hard cock rub against his own underwear with each move of his hips, not letting his eyes leave Steve’s to be sure that the other man wouldn’t notice what was going on.

  
“You’re too good to do anything real bad, Stevie, I know you, I’m sure it’s nothing, nothing to be ashamed of, you know there’s no shame between us, no secrets…”

  
He had let his hand up to Steve’s knee, thanks to the too-large pants that were once his, before Steve decided to take them. He could feel the beginning of a bony thigh with his thumb.  
He could also feel his cock leaking, leaving a wet patch on his underwear. He wondered if he could come just like that, on his knees with his face a few inches from Steve’s dick, his palm full of his leg, the other one gripping the floor to stay anchored and not lose control.

  
“I promise you’ll feel better once you told me, and I want you to feel good, I wanna make you feel so good, Stevie…”

  
He meant it, unable to stop the words, keeping begging, telling senseless things. Steve’s lips were now parted, his hands both gripping tightly the fabric of their couch, and he was bending a little in Bucky’s direction like a flower would follow the sun, still hypnotized.  
It was the most beautiful vision ever, Steve’s glassy eyes following the movements of Bucky’s head from under his long eyelashes, his red lips slightly opened.  
It was a miracle he hadn’t noticed Bucky’s heavy breathing, dilated pupils, the fact that his words didn’t mean anything, really.

  
“Please, Stevie, sir, give me something, anything… I won’t tell anyone… I’m beggin’ you, I’m on my knees for you, I’ll take anything you want to give me… Please tell me… I promise you’ll feel better…”

  
One of Steve’s hands left the couch to caress his head, the long fingers stroking his hair gently. He licked his lips and Bucky felt his stomach drop. The spell was ruined, Steve was moving, in a second his eyes were going to leave Bucky’s and see his hard-on; he was going to be disgusted, and rightly so.

  
Bucky had used him and Steve hadn’t known better, trusting and innocent as he was.

  
Steve’s hoarse voice interrupted his thoughts before he panicked.

  
“You wanna make me feel good, Buck? You’ll do anything if I tell you why I had to pray for half an hour?”

  
And fuck, Steve’s pupils were dilated, too. The spell hasn’t been broken. He still hadn’t noticed that Bucky was hard and getting off on their little game, and for whatever reason he was willing to keep going.

  
“Yes, yes, sir, I’ll do anything, please tell me.”

  
“Beg me,” Steve commanded with his serious voice, the one he usually used on him to get him up and out of the bed quickly, and Bucky’s cock twitched. God, he didn’t know if it was something sexual for Steve, or if he was just high on the feel of power, on seeing Bucky on his knees and begging him.

  
When he took too long to answer, Steve’s fingers pulled his hair a bit, a little smile on his lips and Bucky realized that for Steve it was still a game.  
He was playfully roughing up his best friend a bit, because he didn’t want to give information easily, and when he would consider that Bucky had pleaded enough he would confess his insignificant sin, and it would be over.  
They would laugh, and prepare dinner. Steve was just preserving his pride by not giving up his secret easily, it was all.  
And it was enough. He was going to keep this memory for the rest of his life and jerk off to it at every chance.

  
“Please, Steve, I’ll do the dishes for a week.”

  
The hand tightened in his hair.

  
“I’m no fool, Buck, I know you’ll do them anyway ‘cause the water is too cold and you won’t let me near it.”

  
He was trying to come up with something else, but it was hard because Steve had accidentally brought Bucky’s face closer to his crotch when he had pulled his hair.  
It was harder than ever to keep his eyes on Steve’s, seeing as he could almost touch the guy’s junk if he moved just a bit; but he dutifully kept his cheek against his friend’s upper thigh and his eyes up on his face.  
He was certain that if he was to touch himself right now, he would come in just a few strokes.

  
“I’ll do anything, Stevie, you have to know by now, I won’t refuse you a thing…”

  
“You refused to tell me what you confessed,” Steve countered matter-of-factly. Damn, the guy was stubborn. Bucky loved him all the more. Steve was such a punk, and damn perfect at the same time; it was a deadly mix. An angelic asshole.  
He was practically vibrating out of his skin with arousal by now, and Rogers was as collected as usual, a light smirk on his beautiful face.

  
“Steve…” his voice cracked at the end, broken, like his will to resist a second more. He was pushing his limits and wasn’t going to be able to restrain himself much longer. He wanted Steve at this moment like he had never wanted him before; he was able to smell the faint, musky smell of the cock resting almost against his face and he knew that he was gripping Steve’s calf way more tightly than he should, trying to ease the fever growing in him.  
It was the most delicious torture imaginable.

  
“Didn’t ask you to stop begging, Buck.” Steve pulled on his hair one more time, and the small gesture annihilated Bucky’s strength.  
He followed the hand instead of resisting it and buried his face against Steve’s crotch, moaning against it as he found that Steve had been hard, maybe the whole time. His hands flew to grip the narrow hips to keep his friend in place, and he took a big breath against his cock, through the khaki pants, whimpering while doing so.  
Steve was hard for him, now he would know exactly what his cock was like — it seemed long — and what his body smelled like, and he was already on the verge of coming just by mouthing at him.

There hadn’t even been any skin on skin contact and Bucky was gone, knew already that he wouldn’t be satisfied if he had to be with anyone else after that. Now that he had been given a taste, it would be Steve or no one.

  
Steve’s hand was resting on his head instead of pushing him away, so he guessed that it was okay to open the fly of his friend’s pants. Steve was letting him do it, even pushed his hips up to help him pull the pants down; he didn’t know that Bucky was a greedy bastard, an opportunist who would pull the underwear down with the pants, but it was okay because Steve chuckled something about Bucky being unable to wait.  
It was extremely unfair because Bucky had waited for years to put his mouth on Steve.

  
And that was exactly why he was going to take his time, now that the underwear was gone. He straightened up a bit to take Steve’s shirt off, too, and sat back down on his knees to admire.

  
“Fuck, Stevie, you look amazing.”

  
He couldn’t help but put his hands on him, his fingers following the invisible trail left by his eyes; he wanted to admire, touch — and later, taste — every part of this body.

  
“I ain’t anything special,” Steve shrugged. That was the most inaccurate thing Bucky had ever heard. He reverently kissed the flat, firm belly, still caressing Steve’s hips and sides, where the skin was softer than a baby’s, and heard a faint sigh; this sound was the only reward he could dream of.

  
“You’re everything I want,” he began. “I want you so much that I would even be fine with you just letting me watch you. I’d take anything you’d give, really.”

  
And be thankful all his life and cherish the memory, even if Steve decided that Bucky could just kiss his hand or even one of his adorable feet, but he wasn’t going to tell him that. The blond was already blushing hard enough.

  
Thankfully, Steve seemed ready to let him get away with a lot more than just kissing his hand, so he kissed his way up his belly to the perfect chest. It was smooth, but nothing like a girl’s. Real flat, with smaller nipples asking to be played with.  
He licked them, nipped at them very carefully; lapped with his tongue flat, alternating from one to the other until both were very hard and sensitive, Steve beginning to squirm beneath him.

  
“Buck…”

  
“Shhh, I’ve got you,” he murmured before going up to straddle Steve’s thighs, kissing the delicate collarbones, biting at the very long, very pale neck supporting the most attractive face Bucky had ever seen. Long, cold hands came to rest on his waist and he noted that he was still fully dressed, but getting naked wasn’t really his priority, so it could wait.  
He felt Steve’s pulse against his tongue; resisted the urge to leave his mark right there, trying to be gentle. It probably was the first time someone had touched Steve like that, and he was going to be careful.

  
Delicately, he captured Steve’s head between his hands and was leaning to kiss him on the lips — dear God, their first kiss — when he was stopped by a hand on his chest.

  
“Beg me again,” Steve asked seriously. “Tell me how bad you want it.”

  
Bucky shuddered. He definitively had a thing for Steve bossing him around.

  
“Steve, fuck, I’m getting tired of makin’ the priest blush at every confession because I have to tell him how much I want you. That’s why I had to pray for so long today, ‘cause I couldn’t keep my hands off my pants this week. Couldn’t when you were sleeping in my bed every night because of the cold.”

  
That made Steve smile.  
He breathed to calm himself. He had to come clean to Steve, let him know how desperate he was, had to be honest with him and let him know that if he was to let Bucky have his way with him, he wasn’t going to stop. He was going to take Steve apart, and have him all the ways you can have someone.

  
“One night I woke up and I had my dick pressed against your ass. You were asleep, Steve, and I wasn’t that awake either. Almost said “screw it” and fucked you right there.”

  
He felt Steve’s cock twitching where their crotches were pressed against each other.

  
“Okay, you can kiss me, now,” Steve breathed.

  
Bucky nodded and closed the space between their lips slowly, to give Steve time to change his mind. The mouth under his was dry, chapped; he licked it to smooth the kiss, and then everything was better, their lips sliding together softly.  
He tried to put all of his adoration in this first kiss. It wasn’t about seeking relief anymore, he wanted Steve to understand all the years he spent wanting him, loving him, ready to sacrifice anything for him.

  
Rogers was the best man in Brooklyn and Bucky wasn’t a fairy, but God help him, it was impossible not to desire the guy. He hadn’t known that Steve would be interested in doing something like that with him, but it probably wasn’t that bad of a sin if Steve was doing it, and it felt too good to be something wrong, anyway.

  
He just hoped he wasn’t crushing Steve’s thighs with the weight of his body.

  
Deciding that Steve deserved better than getting off on their old couch, and also haunted by the desire to see him sprawled on his bed, but naked this time, like he had pictured a hundred times in a hundred fantasies, he broke the kiss.

  
“M’gonna make you feel good, I promise, but not here,” he murmured.

  
He didn’t have to tell Steve to hang on before getting up and lifting him — his long legs had already found their way around Bucky’s hips, his lean arms gripping his neck.

At last, Bucky could possess him, after countless nights spent lusting after his friend’s body, assuming that he would never be able to touch, and resigned to a frustrated life of building fantasies based on the glimpses of white skin he got every Sunday.  
And yet here he was, the luckiest bastard in Brooklyn, his hands firmly lifting against the round ass he has pressed his groin against every night he could; here he was, bringing his prey in his den.

  
And God, what a vision, when he put down Steve on his bed! He was all thin limbs lay out haphazardly, flushed from his erected cock to his cheekbones, his blue eyes almost black from arousal.

  
“Ya goin’ to stare all night? ‘Could at least let me see, too…”

  
Bucky smirked. Yeah, Steve was going to see all right. If he wanted a show, a show he was going to get. He lifted his shirt over his head first, because he knew he had great abs, and had to stop for a second before opening his fly because in front of him, relaxed and shameless, Steve had one hand around himself and was slowly stroking. God.

  
He had heard Steve masturbate once at night, and his own cock had been so hard it had been hurting, leaking so much that he had to change his sheets the day after. Watching him doing it was even hotter.  
But if he wanted Steve to keep touching himself, he had to give him something, so he stepped out of his pants and underwear lazily, his eyes on his best guy.

  
"God, Bucky, look at you..." Steve breathed. "I wish I could draw you like this."

  
"Later," he promised, before joining the blond in bed.  
It was still pretty chilly in their room, so he covered Steve's body with his, willing the goose bumps to leave that immaculate skin, and he kissed Steve properly, taking his time, savoring the moment.  
He'd do it all day, all night, if he could. Not because Steve had a great technique — he could feel the lack of experience, of finesse — but because even if the kiss was sloppy, it was still his mouth on Steve's. It was still a dream come true.

There also was the thrill of feeling the erection against his hip, a steady reminder that the other was enjoying himself, that Bucky wasn't a pervert fulfilling his dirty fantasies without consent. They were both in this.

  
He kissed Steve's mouth, Steve's reddening cheeks; his nose, his forehead, his beautiful, closed eyes along with his long lashes; his jaw, his neck, tasting all the flavors of his skin — more salty at places, a bit sweaty on the collarbones. He was drunk on Steve's taste, on his heavy breathing, on the feeling of his hands.

Oh, his long hands roaming along Bucky's body, never staying in the same place, like he was eager to touch all of Bucky. It was the most exciting thing in the world.  
   
His cock was hard as a rock, sliding against the blond’s flat stomach at every move they made while kissing, sending jolts of pleasure down his his spine, making his toes curl.  
He wanted to suck on Steve's flesh, to taste all of him. The memories of having his head near his friend’s cock, earlier, was maddening him. He remembered the musky scent and moaned, breaking their kiss to bury his face in the small chest, taking the tiny nipples back in his mouth, releasing them only to lick between outstanding ribs, then trying to nip at a hollowed belly. There was like a hunger in him, after all this time staring at Steve, unable to touch him, starving; it was seizing him by the guts. He felt almost feverish now that he could have all of him. His head was spinning.

  
Steve whimpered when he put his tongue in his bellybutton to chase down the taste of clean skin, soap, and sweat. He smelled exactly like he always had; it was the tempting smell that was lingering in his bed three months a year, familiar and dizzying, one he had summoned so often while jerking off. The skin was soft against his tongue, softer than a dame's, like it was made to be licked all day.  
He stopped kissing Steve just before getting his mouth on his flushed prick and looked up at him, contemplating one more time. Red patches were darkening his skin where Bucky's stubble had scratched it. He had marked him, Bucky thought with satisfaction.

  
"Don't tease, Buck, and get your damn mouth on me."

  
Bucky's cock twitched, reacting to Steve's commanding tone.  
It really was doing it for him, maybe because all he had always wanted was to obey and please that man. He experimentally licked at the tip and Steve exhaled a loud breath, his head thrown back on their pillow. He smirked — he was going to enjoy it, making Steve feel so good, controlling his pleasure, giving him everything he could. There was no doubt in his mind.

  
Without any more hesitation, he licked at the length to coat it properly with saliva, making sure his mouth would slide against it perfectly, enjoying the feel of the cock in his hand, under his tongue. The shape of the large veins mapping Steve's shaft was glorious under his tongue, and he noticed that when he was licking at the head it twitched in reaction, like the pleasure was unbearable.  
So maybe he did it a few times before taking as much of this perfect cock as he could in his mouth. Sue him, he loved having this kind of power over Steve.

  
Besides, the absolutely filthy noises his friend made were comforting him in his resolution to make a mess out of the guy, to take him apart with his mouth. Bucky wasn't experienced, so he couldn't take all of Steve's length in, but he was making up for it by gripping the base in his hand, moving it in rhythm with the bobbing of his head.

  
He was going slowly, getting used to have a penis in his mouth and enjoying the idea of taking his time to make Steve go mad with pleasure.

  
"Oh, God," Steve blasphemed. “Your mouth…”

 

Bucky hummed in answer, letting him know that said mouth wasn’t going anywhere and tried to take him deeper. It was a bit difficult, but Steve whined and his hips jerked off the mattress, trying to feed Bucky more of his dick, and the uncontrolled move was really a turn-on for Bucky so he kept doing it, his whole body shuddering from arousal.  
He wanted Steve to hold him in place and fuck his mouth in earnest, wanted Steve to make him beg for his cock.  
He would. He’d beg. Probably would have to beg Steve if he wanted to do it again, later, when his friend would have realized what they’ve done.

  
If he was to be deprived of that leaking treat right now, he’d do anything to have it back between his lips.

  
He wanted Steve to give it to him real good, so he fastened his rhythm and tightened his grip around the shaft; it was getting a bit messy, his saliva dripping along it, his other hand trying to hold Steve’s hips beginning to slip because they were both sweating so much.

  
“Ah,” Steve gasped, his hands flying to Bucky’s head, holding him. “Keep goin’, please.”

  
Bucky would have begged to keep doing it, and hearing Steve so desperate, so receptive and willingly giving himself… He just couldn’t wait a minute more, it was all too much; he wrapped his free hand around his own prick. His eyes closed at the sensation, relief washing over him at the first stroke.  
But before he could really relieve the pressure, he felt a bony hand on his shoulder trying to guide his hand back up on Steve.

  
“No,” Steve ordered simply.

  
Puzzled, he stopped sucking on him, saliva dripping down his chin.

  
“What is it, Stevie?”

  
Maybe he had changed his mind. It’s true that it would be a miracle that someone as pure as Steve would allow him to put his mouth on him — maybe touching himself while doing it, like the horny, desperate, adoring beast he was, was just the last straw?  
Maybe Steve had finally noticed that his friend, while still being a catch for Brooklyn’s standards, was still desperately human and underserving of someone as unearthly good and pure.

  
Really, Bucky never met anyone who’d deserve Steve Rogers. His friend was something else, made for the greatest things. One day, Bucky was going to be one of the guys at the docks and watch Steve become a great artist, someone famous.  
But for now, Steve was guiding his hand to his own mouth and was sucking on his fingers.

  
“Wanted to know what you taste like, too,” he mouthed. “But I can’t really taste anythin’ on your fingers.”

 

His friend released the fingers with a frown, disappointed, and added,

  
“Doesn’t mean you can touch yourself, Buck. I didn’t allow you to.”

  
Steve's voice was like the rest of him, surprising, almost out of place in this tiny body. It was the voice of a man, deep and throaty, unexpected.

  
Bucky obeyed, captivated, laying his hand back on the flat belly and eagerly returning to his task. He was now the one under the spell, taking his cues from his friend's voice, from the sounds escaping the long column of a thin throat, trying to create music by making him moan. Music made of Steve’s noises, noises controlled by Bucky's head bobbing along a very, very hard cock.  
Bucky listened to every whisper and groan like the faithful listen to the priest at church.

  
These sounds were the only thing he had to guide him, the only praise he needed. With his hand, he couldn't help but try to touch all of Steve at once, grabbing an arm, caressing with his palm the side of his jaw, even holding his hand briefly.

  
It was like a drug. He was overwhelmed by the sensations and he wasn't even the one receiving a blowjob. Somehow, it wasn't important; he didn't need to touch his own cock to be already on the verge of coming.  
Pleasure was rushing over him by waves — Steve's moans, Steve's breathing moving the fragile ribs beneath his hand, Steve's taste on his tongue, the smell of their sweat. It was all too much already.

  
"Buck," Steve warned, his voice breathy. "I'm not gonna last."

  
He hummed around the cock, licking at it a few more times before letting it go.

 

"I don't care; I want to feel you come."

  
"In your mouth?"

  
Steve sounded unconvinced, like having Steve's spunk in his mouth hadn't been jerk-off material for Bucky since puberty.   
He'd receive it with the reverence reserved for the host; he'd take it down his throat and ask for more. The thought of it was actually making his prick leak precome desperately.

  
"Yes, please, sir," he said in his most submissive voice, wanting his Stevie to enjoy the feeling of being powerful, of being able to take whatever he needed from Bucky's mouth. "Please feed me," he added, making Steve groan, taking his cock in one hand and Bucky's head in the other, doing just that.

  
Bucky opened his mouth meekly. He had found his purpose in life: making Steve come, again and again, opening his mouth for him to hear him cry profanities, to see this tiny body reddening by a feverish pleasure.

  
   
It almost felt like an out of body experience. It was like he could feel the pleasure rushing over Steve, knowing the effect each lick would have on him, predicting each twitch of his cock before it came. Like it was his own, or he had been doing this all his life.  
And he was affected, too, feeling his own prick harder than ever, blood filling it, nerves sensitive. If Steve was close, then Bucky was, too.  
He couldn’t remember a time when he had been that aroused, that worked up before. Even the wind passing through their window was like a caress, a tease along his cock. Offering his mouth to Steve, worshipping him with his lips was enough to bring him close; it was the sexiest thing he had ever done.

  
The noises Steve was making now were exquisite. He really was close, his hips jerking off the mattress, and Bucky wanted to come so badly, too; wanted to be good for Steve. Wanted to show him how much he loved him, wanted to come all over their sheets just because it was the most exciting experience he’d ever had.  
Because Steve’s cock was that good in his mouth, and because he loved to suck on it and he didn’t need anything else to have an orgasm. He wanted to show Steve Rogers that he was the most perfect thing to ever happen to him — wanted to show him by coming untouched.

  
He quickened his movements, trying to match the wheezing of Steve’s lungs; a sound usually frightening and now just proof that his orgasm was building up. He hopes it wasn’t going to end up in an asthma attack. He could always try to make him come before it could end up badly. Anyway, the man was already on the verge of his orgasm, his uncontrolled movements making his length hit the back of Bucky’s throat.

  
Bucky’s hips were also restless, his cock bouncing in the air, trying to find friction and never finding it, painfully hard. A single small touch would make him come everywhere; he knew it and purposely avoided touching the sheets.  He didn’t want to come before Steve, wanted to enjoy his release with the taste of his lover’s come in his mouth.

 

He didn’t need friction to attain his release. All he needed was Steve.

  
He knew he could do it. Not that he had already tried to come like that, without a touch, but it seemed natural and easy, with Steve sweating and swearing under him, restless and beautiful.  
Even in this situation, without control of himself, his skin carmine, Steve inspired devotion; it was impossible to see him, his lips chapped and crimson, opened on a moan, and not be filled with the need to adore him, worship him.  
It was a strange faith that Bucky was developing, a faith for a pagan god with blond hair and a surprising sense of justice.

  
He didn’t care anymore. He was in a religious trance, his focus on Steve, hyper aware of his every move and sigh, watching him get closer and closer to coming with every thrust between Bucky’s lips.

  
With the cock never really leaving his throat anymore, Bucky wasn’t able to breathe like he’d like, but he was sure that he didn’t need that either.  
Didn’t need to touch himself, didn’t need to eat, to breathe as long as Steve kept doing what he was doing, sliding the shaft of his prick in him.

  
“Buck… I’m gonna… Ah!” Steve shouted.

  
Steve’s cock was impossibly hard, harder than Bucky thought it could be, and suddenly it throbbed under Bucky’s hand, seed filling his mouth with each pulse.

  
Steve was still breathing hard, but he wasn’t shouting anymore, and his body was still and relaxed as he was riding his orgasm. It allowed Bucky to focus entirely on the taste of the fluid flowing down his throat, on the last pulsations of the cock still in his mouth but already softening.

  
He finally let it go before it became too sensitive and swallowed, reminding himself that he had now a bit of Steve to warm his belly; that he was the only one to know how his seed tastes like. Steve’s hands were still on his head, caressing his scalp gently and Bucky wished he could be a cat to stay all of his life under these hands.

  
He kissed his way up, opening his mouth for Steve, careful not to crush him under his body. His cock was leaking between them, marking Steve’s skin; he was so close but didn’t want it to end. 

He didn’t know if Steve was going to regret this and start sleeping alone, even if it was the middle of the winter. He was scared shitless to lose the only good thing he ever had, the only reason he could smile and work hard.

  
So yeah, he didn’t want to come yet, but he was far too gone to stop either, rutting against the coveted body of his best friend, mouthing at him. If it was the last time, he wanted him to know that it had been incredible, so he began to speak between kisses, whispering how good it had felt to have him in his mouth, how amazing Steve had been.  
He came like that, praise on his adoring lips, his body on top of Steve to shield him from the rest of the world.

  
Between them, his drying come was finishing to bind their bodies.

  
“I don’t think we should confess that to the priest next Sunday,” Steve declared with his commanding tone, the one suggesting that if Bucky tried to confess what they did, he was going to peel potatoes for the next year or so.

  
“What ‘bout your soul?” Bucky asked, because he didn’t want Steve, who was almost a saint, to go to Hell because of him.

  
“There’s no need to confess, Buck. It’s no sin if we’re in love.”

  
He grunted his approval and put his head on Steve’s bony chest to meditate what had just been said. They were in love. Steve deemed him good enough to love. He didn’t care what the priest said; if Steve had told him that it wasn’t a sin, then it wasn’t.

 

If Steve was willing to love him, for whatever reason, then he was going to love him back. It was that simple, and he was going to follow that new rule until the end of his life. ‘Till the end of the line.  
Now the only thing he had to focus on was the wheeze under his ear. As soon as Steve’s breathing was back to normal, Bucky was going to make him come again, and then feed him something warm. He was going to be able to take care of him properly.

 

Bucky’s smile was already legendary in Brooklyn, but maybe after that the legend was going to spread to the whole country.

 

-Steve Rogers was going to look at this smile with a smug face, because he knew that he was the one to put it there.-

**Author's Note:**

> Wanna cry about Stucky? Wanna adore Skinny!Steve with me? 
> 
> Come here and chat on Tumblr: http://redandbigbad.tumblr.com


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